Moonkind (Winterling) by Sarah Prineas Page A

too.
    “Idiots,” he muttered. Wearily he got to his feet and went out, then climbed down a rope ladder to the ground, where Phouka was waiting.
    He leaned against the rough bark of the tree; his brother nudged him in the shoulder with his nose. “D’you suppose they’ve got any rabbits around here?” he asked.
    Phouka gave his snorting laugh.
    “Fine for you,” Rook grumbled. “You eat grass.”
    He could eat grass too, in his horse shape. But rabbits were better. He tossed his shifter-tooth under his tongue and shifted into his dog shape, and went out to hunt for something juicy and long-eared and delicious to eat.
     
    Later, as the day grew darker, he loped to the Way, ready to head out and set himself up as a target for Forsworn arrows. At least he’d be full of rabbit when they got him; that was something.
    As he entered the clearing, his ears twitched; he shifted into his person shape and cocked his head, listening. Then, from behind, came Fer’s bees in a glittering swarm. They swooped past and spun into a buzzing whirlwind all around him. Then they hovered over his head as if waiting.
    They were waiting.
    “You’re coming?” he asked.
    Their answer was a muted roar of a buzz— yes , it meant.
    “You are talking to me,” Rook muttered. That didn’t make any sense at all.
    From behind him came the sound of heavy footsteps in the misty woods; he turned to see the wolf-guard Fray; she had a long knife sheathed at her waist. With her came one of the twin fox-girls—Twig, he thought it was—and following them came Phouka.
    Fray strode to the middle of the clearing, a few paces from where the Way would open, and folded her arms. “We’re going to save our Lady,” she said. “But you’re coming with us , Puck; we’re not going with you . Understand? The bee made a mistake. It should have come to us. We’re in charge. We’re giving the orders.”
    “And you—” The tiny fox-girl narrowed her eyes and folded her arms just like the much larger wolf-girl. “You’re obeying the orders.”
    “Oh, sure,” Rook said warily.
    “All right, then,” Fray said.
    “All right,” the fox-girl echoed.
    They stood in silence, waiting for the Way to open. Phouka stamped impatiently. The bees hovered over Rook’s head; the one bee was clinging to his coat collar. His clothes were still damp from the rain; as the night drew on the air grew colder, and he started shivering. He’d shift into his dog shape for its warm fur, except that he had to tell them some things.
    “Look, Fray,” he started.
    “We don’t want to talk to you, Puck,” the wolf-guard said, staring straight ahead.
    “Just listen, then.” He kept going before she could tell him to stop. “We could have a problem when we get to the Way I told you about.” He’d had time during the long afternoon to think it through. It was going to be tricky. He’d have his teeth and fierceness in his dog form, and Phouka could fight, and the bees might be even better allies. Fray and the fox-girl were loyal to Fer—and Fer was loyal to them—but if there was any fighting . . .
    “Those Forsworn I was telling you about,” he went on. “The ones guarding the Way where Fer is. They’re Lords and Ladies, and they’re wearing glamories. They might be hard to resist.”
    The wolf-guard gave a sharp nod; she and the fox-girl exchanged a glance. “Fer is our Lady, and she’s sworn to us, too,” Fray said gruffly. “We won’t be ruled by anyone, especially not these Forsworn ones.”
    Good. But they’d still have to be careful.
     
    At last the long afternoon ended; the sun went down behind the heavy clouds, and the Way opened. They followed the bee through the winding trail of Ways until they came to the Way that led to the prairie land. They went through that wide-open Way . . .
    And walked straight into an ambush.
    The bees gave the first warning, shooting ahead as Rook stepped into the long prairie grass with the wolf-girl beside him